Chapter 84 - The Corndogs of Tender Reminiscences (1/2)

Indeed, what in hell was that?

”Maybe we hallucinated,” Miguel says, as the three of them stroll on the main avenue of the amusement park. ”Or maybe the light and shadows played tricks on our eyes.”

Gabriel shrugs. ”The bottom line is, we were not harmed. Nothing bad happened. We got spooked, that's all.”

”If that had been a legitimate ghost, then I'd choose to come face to face with that than an actual living, breathing serial killer,” Claire says.

”Fair point,” Miguel says.

If anything, that strange experience in the horror booth was indeed an experience of a lifetime, just what the brochure promised. Gabriel also realizes that Claire's bodyguards would only be a fair distance away—they were probably in the tunnel, too, and that they were not alone, if that turned out to be a real person.

They are almost at the end of the avenue, and about to enter the short promenade that leads to the exit, when Miguel stops them, sniffing something in the air. ”Oh, yes,” he says. ”I smell corndogs. What say you we try that out? Just, you know, for nostalgia.”

”I think we've had enough of that for a night,” Gabriel says.

”I second the suggestion that we try the corn dogs, though,” Claire says. The childlike smile has never left her face, and she looks even seemingly younger with that big teddy bear in her arms. ”I've never tried one.”

”Oh, always the 'virgin' of everything,” Gabriel says with that grin.

”So?” she snaps. ”I'd rather be a vɨrġɨn than be a jaded, cynical washed-up person.” Who couldn't even properly move on over his fiancée, she would have said, too, but she manages to stop herself.

”Hey, that was a mouthful,” Miguel says, smiling. ”I guess someone's really hungry, now with that temper.”

Claire says nothing. She casts Gabriel a sideward glance, then in an impulse, takes Miguel by the arm, who is only happy to take the lead. ”Come on, Miguel, let's find the purveyor of that corn dog!”

Gabriel scratches his head, and it isn't even itching. What did he do? He was only kidding. Ah women, and their inscrutable ways. One moment they're fine, the next moment they're the red-hot center of bad temper.

Claire and Miguel sally forth toward the corndog hut, while Gabriel trails behind them. The corndog hut is now manned by a different person, not the old lady who used to work the counter and dip the batter-coated sausage-on-a-stick years ago. But it's the same corndog brand, and it's probably safe to presume that as far as nostalgic trips of the palate go, this one won't disappoint.

”Look, they're now offering different flavors, imagine that,” Miguel says, reading off the laminated list of corndog options.”

”If you want to walk down memory lane, you should only have the classic corndog,” Gabriel says.

”Three classic corndogs, then,” Miguel says to the server.

”No, I want a different one,” Claire says, reading the menu. ”One 'hellish spicy corndog from hell' for me, please.”